


A Beautiful Spring Day

by GraySonOfGotham



Series: JayTim Week 2018 [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Depression, Dick just wants to help, Ending could be seen as happy or sad, Hallucinations, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 03:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16653511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraySonOfGotham/pseuds/GraySonOfGotham
Summary: Jason Todd died again.It hits Tim harder than anyone else, and Tim loses his grasp on reality.Dick tries his hardest to hold his family together, but there is only so much one man can do before he breaks.JayTim Week 2018, Day 7 ~ Nightmares & Hallucinations





	A Beautiful Spring Day

“ _Please_ , Tim!” Dick pleaded. “Snap out of it! Bruce said if you don’t show any improvement, he’ll have no choice but to- to-” he sniffled softly. “Timmy, _please_ , just- just cooperate!”

Tim stared at him blankly, his eyes dull and his face gaunt. He did not respond to Dick.

“Damn it, Tim!” Dick said angrily, punching the wall of Tim’s room. “Your next stop is a mental institute! There, you don’t have a choice! They’ll have you on drugs day in and day out! Is that the life you want for yourself?!”

Tim blinked slowly. “I don’t care,” he said.

“Why, Tim? Just tell me _why_.”

“He’s gone.”

Dick slumped to the floor, all the fight leaving his body. He crawled over to the edge of Tim’s bed, where the other boy was sitting stoically. “I know he’s gone, Timbo,” Dick said softly, taking a skeletal hand in his. “There’s nothing we can do about that. I miss him too, but… he’s not coming back this time.”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Tim whispered, still staring blankly at the opposite wall.

“Bullshit, I don’t know,” Dick growled. “Have I not lost people I’ve loved? Haven’t we _all_?”

“It’s different.”

“Of course losing a lover is different,” Dick said. “So is losing a friend, a child, a brother. You seem to forget that there was a time when I loved him too, the same way you did.”

“But he didn’t die.”

Dick let out a frustrated sigh. “Where is the Tim with the mental strength? The one who grounds everyone else? Where is he?”

“He died.”

“ _No_ , he didn’t,” Dick said firmly. “He’s just hiding because he’s too damn scared to show his face to the world again! Well I have news for you, Tim. This damn world’s going to keep spinning whether you like it or not. Every day is going to pass anyway. If you’re going to waste those days away wallowing in past, that’s your own damn fault. You have all the power in your hands to make yourself happy.”

“No, I don’t,” Tim said. “He’s gone and he took it with him.”

“Are you fucking listening to yourself?!” Dick screeched angrily. “You’re saying _Jason_ is the one who has control of your entire life?”

Tim flinched at Jason’s name, and his head dropped down towards his lap. He closed his eyes. “Please go away, Dick. I don’t want to listen to you just yell at me.”

Dick huffed. “I’m not giving up on you, Tim. I don’t care what Bruce says, but I’m going to fucking get through that thick skull of yours, you hear me? Took it with him, my ass.”

With that, Dick stalked out of Tim’s room, slamming the door behind him. Tim let out a long sigh and flopped backwards onto his bed. Dick rarely got angry like that. Dick barely raised his voice at all, even if he was arguing with someone.

“He talks too much.”

The faintest of smiles quirked onto Tim’s lips. “He does, doesn’t he?” he answered quietly.

“Yeah,” Jason snorted. “Never seen him like that before.”

“Me neither,” Tim said. “He’s usually a really happy person.”

“So are you,” Jason said softly. “What happened, Timmy, love?”

“Like you don’t know.”

“Well, I guess I do,” Jason said. “But I’m going to pretend I don’t, otherwise that just destroys this elaborate illusion you’ve built, doesn’t it?”

“Hm. Okay. Well, you died and left me, to put it simply,” Tim said. He rolled over onto his stomach and opened his eyes. Jason was sitting at Tim’s desk, his legs crossed. He wore a white t-shirt with faded blue jeans. He looked exactly like Jason before he died. Literally right before hie died.

The front of the white shirt was soaked with red blood, and there was a torn hole right on Jason’s heart, where the bullet pierced through. Tim did not even bat an eye. Jason always looked like this now, a cold reminder that he was not actually real, and Tim was talking to a figment of his imagination.

“Why did I do that?” Jason asked, an easily smile on his lips. “I would never leave you, Timbo.”

“But you did,” Tim said, cocking his head to the side. “You’re gone, and I’m here.”

“How do you know I’m gone? I’ve come back from the dead before. It can happen again, you know,” Jason said easily. He was suddenly polishing one of his guns, a pretty, silver thing. It shined in the afternoon sunlight.

Tim snorted lightly. “I’d highly doubt that. Everyone else doubts it too. But they don’t know you’re still here. Kind of.”

“In your imagination, you mean,” Jason said. “I’m still dead, you know.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Tim said. “I don’t need my own hallucinations to remind me of reality. You aren’t doing your job very well, Jay.”

Jason laughed, the sound so real and clear. “Oh, Timmy. Okay, okay, what do you want me to do? Cuddles? Ice cream? Flowers?”

“No, just talk to me,” Tim said.

“Okay, that’s easily done,” Jason shrugged. “How long you want me to stay?”

“Forever, Jay. Don’t leave me.”

“Got it,” Jason promised. “Just don’t eat those damned pills anymore.”

“Promise,” Tim said.

~

A year later, Tim was still no better. He had been admitted to the New Jersey State Psychiatric Institute for the past eleven months. Dick had been right. They pumped drugs into his veins day in and day out, making him sit through hours of painful therapy and stupid group talks.

But Tim was smart. He was depressed, yes, but he was smart. He trained his body to become immune to the drugs, and three months after being admitted, his hallucinations came back.

He played the part well too. His doctor saw “great improvement”, and Tim fed them fake stories for their notes.

The only challenge Tim could not overcome was convincing Dick.

Dick came for visits every other week. Sometimes he was accompanied by Bruce or Damian or Alfred. Mostly, he came alone.

Each visit, he would spend an hour or two talking to Tim. Tim did not like it when Dick came to visit because on visitation days, everyone got three hours of free time all to themselves, and it was those days that Tim had free range of the institute. He could go somewhere private and talk to Jason for hours.

And for some reason, Dick could not see the same improvement the doctors were seeing. Despite the doctors thinking Tim was ready, Dick convinced them otherwise and had Tim’s medications altered.

Then, all of Tim’s hard work was suddenly reversed, and he was back in square one.

Tim got angry when he found out. He punched a nurse and broke a table. He spent a week in solitary because of that. Another four months passed as Tim tried to develop an immunity to those drugs as well. After he managed to regain control and start seeing Jason again, Dick suddenly stopped visiting, which Tim was glad of.

For three months, no one visited him.

One day, Dick came back.

He looked haggard and old. Tim noticed that he had gray hairs coming in, and stubble around his jaw. He sat down on the bench next to Tim and sighed, not saying anything for a long time. Tim did not start the conversation either.

“Tim,” Dick finally said, his voice softer than the spring breeze. It was a beautiful day outside, and Tim wondered if Dick would keep this visit short so he can go on a picnic with Jason later. “Do you still see him?”

“Hm?” Tim asked. “See who?”

“Your hallucinations. Of Jason.”

“No,” Tim lied.

Dick swallowed and nodded. “Good,” he said. He was silent for a really long time afterwards. Tim nearly asked if he could go when Dick spoke again. “I’m sorry I didn’t… visit you for a long time. A lot of things have happened since… my last visit.” He voice cracked in the middle, piquing Tim’s interest.

“What happened?” he asked. It was the first time Tim had showed interest in the outside world since his admittance to the hospital.

Dick swallowed hard, and he did not speak for a long, long time. “Bruce died,” he finally said. “There was an- an attack on Gotham a while back. By the Joker. They fought, and I don’t know the details, but… they fell.”

“They both died?”

Dick nodded mutely.

“I’m sorry,” Tim told Dick. He felt a small pang of sadness, but probably not as much as he should. “Send Damian my regards as well.”

Dick’s shoulders hunched more. “Dami’s gone too,” he whispered.

“What? Where did he go?”

“He went back to his mother’s,” Dick said. “To beg her to bring Bruce back with the help of the Lazarus Pit. I forbade him to go, so he snuck out one night.” Dick rubbed his hands over his face tiredly and sighed. “He never came back, and when I tracked down Talia she said…”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Dick. At least you have Alfred.”

Dick did not answer.

“Damn. I’m sorry,” Tim said, truly feeling sympathetic for Dick. He patted Dick on the shoulder.

“Timmy,” Dick said. “Do you think you’ll ever get better?”

“I am better.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Dick scoffed. “I truly mean it. Do you think there’s a chance you can get better? Any chance at all?”

Tim thought about it honestly for a few moments. “No,” he answered. “Not unless he miraculously comes back from the dead again.”

Dick let out a long, long breath and sighed. “Okay,” he said. He stood up, and Tim stood alongside him. Dick gave him a tired smile, a smile that used to light up the room, but now just seemed so old and weighed down and out of place in the beautiful day. “Timbo, I think this is going to be the last time I visit you.”

“Okay,” Tim said.

Dick stared at him for another few seconds before opening his arms. Tim hesitated a second before stepping into them, letting Dick roughly wrap his arms around him.

Tim patted Dick’s back awkwardly.

“Good-bye, Timmy,” Dick said, his voice choked up and thick.

“Bye, Dick,” Tim said. He watched as Dick walked away. Finally, Tim was alone in the garden, aside from the chirping birds and the flitting butterflies. “You think he’ll actually leave us alone now?”

Jason appeared on the other side of him, and Tim turned to look at him. Jason shrugged. “Who knows. You’re his only family left. He’s bound to show up again, despite what he said.”

“Hm, I wonder what he meant,” Tim said. Then, he smiled widely. “Hey, I was thinking, you want to go on a picnic? It’s a beautiful day today.”

~

Two weeks later on the visitation day, Tim was sitting outside on the bench again, waiting just in case Dick decided to show up.

An hour into visitation, and still no Dick. Tim wondered if he should creep out towards the large oak tree at the edge of the property and talk with Jason. Or maybe he would go back inside to his room to chat because it had rained the night before. Everything was still covered with water, but it was beautiful when the soft spring light bounced off of it.

Just then, a nurse called from the doorway of the hospital, “Timothy, dear, you’ve got a visitor!”

Tim sighed heavily. Looks like Dick showed up after all.

“Tim?”

Tim froze, every muscle in his body tensing. That was _not_ Dick’s voice. That voice was not real. That was the voice that was had been in Tim’s head for the past year, and not once had Tim actually heard it aloud. He did not dare look up.

“Fuck, _Timmy_? I thought- I thought Dick was _lying_ when his note said that you were here, but _god_.” A very real weight settled onto the other end of the bench. “Tim.”

Tim forced himself to turn his head and look over. He choked on the name on his lips. His eyes immediately filled with tears as he lifted a shaking hand to touch the person sitting in front of him. He was terrified that he was not real.

But Tim’s hand grazed over firm skin, the sharp cut of a jaw, the hallows of his throat, the juts of his collarbones and disappearing down into the grey t-shirt.

“Jason,” he whispered hollowly.

Jason’s eyes were filled with tears. His hand pushed Tim’s hair out of his face. “What the hell happened to you, Timmy?” he asked. “Why are you here?”

Tim pressed his face into Jason’s chest. “I don’t know, but I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, two tears of happiness squeezing out of his eyes. “You’re here, and you’re _alive_.”

“Fuck, Tim, I was hoping Dick had been lying when he said you had been admitted to a mental hospital, but-” Jason cut himself off and pulled Tim in closer. “Did you know?” he asked softly.

“Know what?” Tim asked. “That you’d be coming back? No one knew. Did Dick find you?” he asked.

Jason let out a shaky breath. “Dick is the one who _brought_ me back, Timbo,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

Jason took a shaky breath. “He- He left me a note. He found a woman who dabbled in dark magic, including necromancy and such, to bring me back. But she said to bring a life back… you have to take one away.”

“So whose life did he take?” Tim asked, confused.

“Self-sacrificing bastard like him?” Jason sniffled quietly. “In his note he- he said he did it for you.” Jason reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a single sheet of folded paper. “He left this for me to give to you.”

Tim took it and without leaning away from Jason, he unfolded it.

There were only a few lines of words scribbled onto the sheet in Dick’s handwriting:

_We’ve all made hard decisions regarding what we should do for the sake of others, Tim. Bruce made his choice. Damian made his. I made mine. Please get well soon and take care of yourselves._

_Love,  
Dickiebird_


End file.
